


Angel on the Bartop

by asterCrash



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 07:17:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12700035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterCrash/pseuds/asterCrash
Summary: Post-fight drinking is a bad habit to be sure, but how many healthy habits can an international assassin and an interstellar bounty hunter have? Her catsuit is too tight and her body armor shows off too much bicep, they're only human. Well, one of them is.





	Angel on the Bartop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Capitola](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capitola/gifts).



Natasha gingerly hopped up onto the bar stool and motioned at the wall of alcohol in front of her. The bartender didn’t even nod, just poured her out a screwdriver and left it on the bar. That’s why she liked fights in New York, the bars didn’t close for nothing and the bartenders didn’t say two words that weren’t about baseball.

The bar thudded as Valkyrie sat down at the seat beside her, an entire bottle of whiskey in her fist.

“I thought you Asgardians preferred beer,” Natasha quipped, checking again to see if that cut on her head had stopped bleeding. The answer was still ‘check back later’.

“I’m flexible,” Valkyrie replied, rolling the bottle’s lid open with a thumb. “You not interested in the clean-up?”

“Let the boys clean up for once,” Natasha said over the sounds of fighting coming from a block away.

“Cheers to that,” Valkyrie replied, clinking Natasha’s glass with her entire bottle. She swivelled around on her stool to lean back against the bar, puffing her chest out as she surveyed their meagre kingdom of two pool tables and a TV showing the same emergency broadcast on a loop.

Natasha did her best not to look over, because she was pretty sure one of her ribs on the right side was fractured and turning hurt a whole hell of a lot, but how often do you even get to take a look at a literal goddess?

She was in her casual armour, as opposed to her formal armour, and opposed again to her actually-taking-this-seriously armour. Natasha figured Asgardians had a suit of armour for every day of the week, which was probably more shade than a woman with as many catsuits as she had could throw. She was wearing her actually-taking-this-seriously catsuit. They were all actually-taking-this-seriously catsuit.

“So why do you do it?” Valkyrie asked.

“What, fight?”

“No,” Valkyrie replied with an exaggerated shake of the head that threw those brown curls of hers all over the place. “Drink.”

“Beats heading to the infirmary, mostly.”

“Oh okay, I was going to go into my tragic backstory involving the death of all my sisters in arms, but you wanted to make a joke, that’s fine.”

Natasha snapped upright hard enough to get a stab of pain from her rib, just in time to see the Asgardian crack up laughing.

“Just messing with you, Midgard,” she said, slouching back into her shoulders and giving Natasha a once over. “Nice that you were worried about my feelings, though.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, turning back to her drink as casually as she could around her rib. The fighting in the distance was getting quieter, shouting had broken up into individual cries as the last stragglers tried to prolong the inevitable. She almost thought she heard someone make a wisecrack.

“How about that name then, ‘Black Widow’” Valkyrie was still talking, between swigs at her bottle. It was half empty now. “Meant to scare people off or are you just that scary?”

“I’m just that scary.”

“Oh I can tell, running into combat with your décolletage out like that and just a couple of dinky pistols and wrist darts for cover. Very scary.”

Natasha channelled the full weight of her reputation, _the Black Widow of Russia_ into a glare, but Valkyrie once more burst into laughter with a snort. Whatever alcohol tolerance Asgardians boasted she had clearly skipped straight through it, from the flush of her cheeks.

“Sorry, sorry, very rude, I know.” She waved off Natasha’s scowl. “It’s just that you always seemed more, you know, cuddly, than scary.”

“Just try it and we’ll see who’s cuddly.”

“I’m planning to,” Valkyrie said, gesturing with her bottle “after this.”

At that, Natasha’s brow furrowed. The boys played at the after-fight flirting too, they all did, but they all knew where to draw the line, and this was a little bit over it.

“Sorry babe, I’m a bit out of your league,” Natasha said,

“Leagues are for losers and edgelords who need to grow up,” Valkyrie said, putting the bottle down with a definitive clink. Something had changed in her eyes in the last second, and she was starting to look underdressed in her not-taking-this-seriously armour with its exposed arms and subtly flexing biceps. “Where I’m from, a woman who doesn’t fight for what she wants goes home alone, and I don’t sleep well in empty beds.”

“I don’t sleep well, period. Kind of goes with the territory.”

“This helps,” Valkyrie said, nodding to her drink and Natasha’s. “I know another thing that helps too,” she said, breaking into a chuckle as she lifted up her fingers to make a V around her lips.

“You really don’t know how to take no for an answer.”

“I’ll take it when I hear it, Midgard. You saying no to me?”

Natasha looked her up and down, the cocky way she gestured to herself, the curve of her sculpted leather chestpiece, the discreet slits in her leather skirt showing off a lot of leather wrapped leg. The girl either had a fetish or an aesthetic, but who didn’t? Her rib twinged again and she could feel the drip of blood trailing down the dust and sweat already mingling on her cheek. She was probably concussed and definitely needed to see a medic. Unfortunately, Valkyrie was wearing a cocky grin like she was getting what she wanted, and Natasha was finding it hard to deny that she wanted to give it to her.

“Fine,” she shrugged. “On the pool table.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Valkyrie said with a cheerful smile, and gestured quickly for the bartender to fuck off, which he only did after flipping her the bird.

Natasha found herself scooped up into the arms of Valkyrie with the unsettling ease of one of the many unearthly beings that seemed to be picking her up more and more frequently over the last eight years. What was unusual beyond that was the way her rib didn’t complain at all from being jostled around so much.

“Healing touch,” Valkyrie said with a wink. “Very useful in a fight, not so much in a five-thousand-year piss-up. Didn’t know I still had it in me.”

“And here I thought you were the smart Asgardian,” Natasha quipped.

“Stupid’s in our DNA, Midgard.” Valkyrie dropped her onto the green felt of the pool table and pushed her down its length enough to make room for herself. “Plus, I liked watching you squirm.”

Natasha rolled her eyes again as she shimmied further down the table to make room while unzipping her suit. Valkyrie was already crawling up on all fours, like a cat sizing her up for a meal. Her smile was one part goofy and one part wicked and Natasha was finding it hard to believe how worked up she was getting for this. The sudden absence of her injury had left a whole of adrenaline in her system going nowhere, and her skin was already flushing faster than she could get her costume off. Valkyrie didn’t seem so eager to undress, dropping her sword off to the side and loosening some of the many belts she was wearing.

“You’ve got about five seconds to get that thing off before I take it off for you,” Valkyrie said, nodding at Natasha’s sports bra.

“You break this, I break you,” Natasha threatened, squirming her shoulders and arms free.

Valkyrie didn’t say anything to that, just smirked and moved faster than a drunk woman should be able to, grabbing at the material of the bra and with one smooth action ripping it open. “Oops,” she said, grin getting smugger by the second.

 Natasha almost got to the end of a threat before Valkyrie’s mouth closed around a nipple and suddenly she couldn’t give a shit about the bra anymore. She’d expected her not to know her own strength, or to be rough and brutish, but those first few kisses up and down her breasts were downright gentle. It wasn’t until she pulled up to nip and Natasha’s neck and slide a knee up between her thighs that Valkyrie hinted at her strength. When Natasha ran her hands through her curly brown pony tail she found her hair soft, when she touched her cheeks they were supple and gave way under her fingers. The felt was rough against her back, but she could hardly pay attention to it as a hand came up between them to grope her chest, flicking a nipple aside with a thumb. She wasn’t one to be vocal unless she was performing, but this crossed past some threshold she didn’t realise she was holding back from. A moan had passed through her lips before she knew what she was doing.

She could feel Valkyrie’s laughter up against her throat, rich and deep and honest, always sounding like she was a second away from snorting. Natasha pulled her up by her hair, knowing how easily she could be resisted, and seeing how Valkyrie let herself be led. Their lips meant with a lot more passion than team mates letting off steam, but Natasha didn’t hold herself back. This was so rare for her, she wasn’t about to spoil it by over-analysing the moment.

“You’re going to have to let me go if you want my head between those pretty legs, Midgard,” Valkyrie chuckled, diverting her eyes down and away from Natasha’s.

“Let’s not spoil the fun so early.” With one of her legs she locked around the knee the Asgardian had pressed into her and pulled her closer, enjoying the way her smile crept wider in response.

They stayed like that for a minute, locked up so close they could hardly touch each other, exploring alien mouths with their tongues and savouring the unique mix of bad alcohol on their respective breath.

“Okay I’m done waiting,” Valkyrie said, as if either of them was less impatient, freeing herself of Natasha’s hands to sit up and remove her chest plate. “You’re working for your mead tonigh—”

Natasha didn’t wait for her to finish before rising up to get at her breasts. Asgardians, it turns out, taste like exactly like models after eight hour shows, covered in sweat and glory and probably glitter somewhere as well.

“Friga’s bouncing behind, you’re eager,” Valkyrie swore, bucking forward to slide herself along Natasha’s thighs. “You better keep that up if you want a free ride to Valhalla after this.”

“Is that what you call it?” Natasha said, before diving back in to the Asgardian’s bosom.

“We’ve got a lot of names for it, now shut up and use that tongue of yours for good.”

Natasha felt like being difficult, but the gentle hand on the back of her head encouraged her forward and she was not in a mood to struggle. She was continuously amazed how soft Asgardian flesh could be, how pillowy Valkyrie’s breasts were, in spite of their strength they folded just like any human under the caress of a hand or the pinch of teeth. Valkyrie reacted to being bitten, but never bruised, giggled when she was tickled but barely flinched, and squeezing her tight within the palm of her hand only made her moan. A part of Natasha wanted a night with a riding crop to see if she could raise even one mark on this perfect brown skin but for now she just enjoyed the sensation and warmth of their embrace.

“I could stay like this all day, Midgard,” Valkyrie said, pulling Natasha’s head from of breasts with a firm hand, “but I figure you’ve waited long enough.”

She laid her down with all the care of a paramedic lying someone out on a stretcher, lowering Natasha’s hands to her sides when she tried to pull back up, and began easing the remainder of her catsuit down over her hips.

“I know we were being funny before, but if you want me to stop now’s a good time to say something,” she said as she ran her fingertips along the line of Natasha’s underwear. “Been too drunk with too many women to want another ‘you should have asked’ morning after.”

“I want it,” Natasha said, before she could even think about the choice.

“You sure?” Valkyrie said, fingertips starting to dig under the fabric.

“ _Bozhe moi_ yes, I want it.”

Valkyrie smiled up at her, and if someone had’ve told Natasha then and there that she’d died on the battlefield and this woman was here to carry her to the afterlife she would have believed them completely because she felt her heart stop in her chest. “Good,” she said, and too fluid for human she pulled down Natasha’s underwear and buried her mouth in between her legs.

Natasha wanted to scream it felt so good. She knew so much of the feeling was the leftover high of a fight and whatever healing magic stitched her rib back together, she didn’t care. She wanted this forever. She’d tried hard drugs, in one job or another, sometimes just to cope with the pain of what she was made to be, but nothing had felt as good as this felt right here. Her whole body was on show in this private little slice of an apocalypse they’d carved out for themselves, the wailing of emergency vehicles and the dying sounds of a fight in the background. Valkyrie’s tongue slid up between her folds and she moaned loud enough to drown out all of that, until they were just two women, fucking on a pool table, with nothing else in the world besides them.

“Do all Earthlings shave their nethers into little shapes or is this just a bit of personal branding?” Valkyrie asked, sardonically, before nuzzling the patch of red hair in question with her nose.

“Shut up, I lost a bet.”

“You bet your nether hairs and _lost_.”

“In my defence, nobody would have ever believed Steve could cheat at cards. Wanda’s a bad influence on him and Clint’s a bad influence on her.”

“Unbelievable,” Valkyrie said, dipping lower again to slip her tongue up and inside Natasha.

Time passed, Natasha was sure, but she felt unhooked from it as Valkyrie worked her over. Seconds felt like hours, and minutes felt like microseconds. Everything was compressed and expanded, like breathing in and out around a fractured rib, no sense to it, just sensation. She felt her breath catch in her throat more than once, and every time she felt like she was going to go over an edge Valkyrie would pull back, let her ground herself before continuing. At first it felt kind, but after a while it became maddening. She wanted release, needed release, needed Valkyrie to give it to her, but still she continued, bring her to the top of a cliff again and again but never letting her drop. She buried her hands in soft, Asgardian hair, wrapped her legs around that alien neck as tight as she could, still she felt no closer, still she was at her mercy.

“Please,” she sputtered, finally, “please just let me finish.”

For a moment Natasha was horrified that Valkyrie might stop to say something clever, but she hadn’t been an Avenger long enough to forget what she was doing and make a wisecrack. Instead she moved her mouth in with renewed passion, so much that Natasha’s eyes rolled back in her head and her hips bucked just that little bit higher than she thought they could. She felt her thighs tighten around Valkyrie’s head on their own and her toes curling in her boots, and she knew she was about to hit her limit.

“Please, please, please,” she muttered under her breath, fingers digging deeper into Valkyrie’s hair and pulling her up and towards her as she felt muscles begin to cramp and twinge. Some of that impressive alien strength was going into just keeping her from throwing both of them off the table in an effort to press herself even closer into the Asgardian’s mouth. Her tongue was like heaven, and it was everywhere Natasha needed her to be. She couldn’t stop crying out, her breathing more ragged than the time she’d been shot, her body covered in more sweat than after any mission, her eyes were rolling back in her head and she _screamed_ as she went over the top.

Seconds turned into minutes turned into hours turned into days as she came down. Her throat was hoarse, she noticed that first, then she felt her toes unwinding themselves in her boots, her fingertips uncurling from Valkyrie’s hair and falling limp on the table around her. Her stomach still twitched, abs just barely visible in the half-light of the abandoned bar. Valkyrie was smiling up at her from between her thighs, the sardonic grin not leaving her face as she brushed her mouth clean with her forearm.

“Never thought you could look so cute, Midgard. Didn’t think your kind knew how to enjoy themselves quite so much.”

“Humans are very good at enjoying themselves,” Natasha quipped between greedy gulps of air.

“Kinda disappointed you’re in no shape to reciprocate, but I guess that just means I’m bunking with you tonight, huh?”

Natasha just swallowed and nodded, to Valkyrie’s laughter.

“Beats drinking your lights out, doesn’t it?” She said, donning her armour again.

“I think,” Natasha said, sitting up and sliding her costume back on. The bra was a lost cause but she’d be able to pass the rest off as battle damage. “That I’m going to sleep pretty well tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> Marvel please hire me to direct an after-credits sequence you won't regret it.


End file.
